True To Yourself
by Shadow Padawan
Summary: A Hufflepuff Pureblood isn't always a very easy thing to be.


All the things that had once seemed to be second nature now seem strange to Ernie.

The photographs from his childhood and the family crest and seal in the charmed alter in a corner of his room are such strange contrasts to his Hufflepuff scarf and the photos from Hogwarts. Justin's letter, unfolded on his desk. The images of him with other Pureblood boys dressed in immaculate "polite company" robes in the Malfoy woods or on the sprawling lawns of the Flyte country estate have been replaced with more recent images of Ernie and Justin in muggle jeans at a muggle arcade.

Sometimes, Ernie has no idea who he is anymore.

The wand in his hand is warm, vibrating very gently, almost unperceptively as he holds it out before himself as though in an en garde. But his mind is blank, filled with so many rushing thoughts that they form an empty, sucking space. Ernie lets his arm drop and stares at the candles on the desk, then the letter opener, its sharp edge gleaming. It's hardly a weapon, but he wants to feel the cool, smooth metal and the sharp bite of the edge on his skin.

It's a perverse fantasy, but at least it would be completely real.

"What are you thinking about, Ernie?"

Ernie jumps and turns around sharply. His father's slender, straight figure immerges out of the shadows of the hallway. Ernie shakes his head and paces over to the bed. He hesitates for just a moment before sitting down. "Nothing, Papa, just...thinking."

"Thinking...about nothing?" Eros Macmillan eyes his some with some disbelief and a good dose of concern. "You're very quiet lately, Ernest. What is it?"

Ernie shrugs. "It was kind of a hard year." He wants to ask his father if he had believed Harry Potter about Voldemort before the break in at the Department of Mysteries. He wants to ask how he can possibly reconcile being a Pureblood and not wanting to murder Justin on the spot. He wants to ask if it's possible to hold on to D- ...certain people, and not lose himself. Instead, he asks, "Was anyone in our family in Hufflepuff before now?"

Eros goes to sit beside his son with a thoughtful expression. "Not on my side of the family. We're mostly Ravenclaws with a few Slytherins - mostly women who married into the family. But, of course, we don't know how your mother and her family would have been sorted if they had gone to Hogwarts. I do rather think she would have been a good fit for Hufflepuff. Why do you ask?"

Ernie shrugs. "I know it's wrong to judge people for things they can't control and I know that an insular Pureblood world is not sustainable. I know being loyal and persistent are traits as good as being cunning or brave or smart. But I know all this now. How did I end up in Hufflepuff at eleven? You and Mama, you raised me like a normal child. I did everything Draco did - Latin tutor, French tutor, grammar tutor, dance and etiquette tutor, history tutor. I got my first wand at seven and Mama taught me basic charms. I could recite family trees by heart better then than I could now. I can still recite ours..."

"So?"

"So I was proud to be a Macmillan. I still am..." He trails off, reluctant shame coloring his tone. "I thought Longbottom was a terrible idiot for not knowing the first thing about Heritage Wards and Blood Magic. I mean, I didn't think Justin was an idiot for not knowing, but there wasn't anyone to teach him. Longbottom's a Pureblood; I expected him to know."

"So?" Eros' eyebrows rose another half an inch for every minute that Ernie spoke, slowly crawling up his forehead.

"So why didn't I end up in Slytherin like Draco and everyone else?"

Eros thinks this over for a moment, then laughs. It's a warm and comforting laugh, familiar to Ernie like every inch of this house. "Ernest, the Sorting Hat sorts on your personality, on things deep inside you, not on what tutors you had or what childishly radical expectations you had of other people or of yourself. Why is this even bothering you? You've always been happy in Hufflepuff."

"I have been...I am..." Ernie stands and paces to the other side of the room, then back again. He's restless. Now that his father is here, he feels like a silly child. "I guess...I'm afraid that if I'm proud to be a Pureblood, then that makes me a bad person or a bad Hufflepuff. But if I'm proud to be in Hufflepuff and if I protect others in my House, despite what a Pureblood ought to do, then I'm a bad Pureblood. I can only ever seem to be one or the other, never both. Everyone I was friends with as a child thinks of me as a Blood Traitor and I don't even think I want to be like them...I don't even think I want to be around most of them... But no one else in Hufflepuff is a Pureblood and Gryffindors are a presumptuous lot who are far too above such a thing as traditions so there is no one who understands why I celebrate Yule and not Christmas andó"

"Ernie, hush."

Ernie stops and looks at his father with large, childishly frightened eyes. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want a war, he doesn't want to be sandwiched in between two sides, nether of which he finds completely relatable. He's also too much a Hufflepuff - the thought of betraying anyone or any aspect of himself is unbearable.

"Ernest. No one can take away who you are. No one can take your family and your heritage away from you. There is no such thing as being a bad Pureblood. That's something that was made up by politicians, by people who need to hold on to every aspect of the past in order to feel secure in their future. No one will stop you from celebrating Yule and you as the heir of this family will always be able to cast a Blood Ward if you feel the need. No one can take that away, do you understand?"

Ernie nods, slowly.

"And the only way you can be a bad Hufflepuff is if you stop being true to yourself." Eros rises and crosses the room to Ernie's side. He reaches out and gives his son's shoulder a squeeze. "I think you are overthinking a very simple thing, my boy. You often do."

Ernie smiles weakly. He does feel mildly better. His thoughts are still jumbled and confused, but not quite as much. "Thank you, Papa. I...I will try to keep that in mind." They say goodnight and Eros leaves. Ernie closes the door with a flick of his wand and sits down at the desk. The candles flicker slightly as he dips the quill and begins his reply to Justin, unwilling to let his insecurities to interfere any longer. But of course they are still there, and Ernie thinks that they will always be there.

In the corner of the room, the Macmillan family crest glows softly.


End file.
